


Tracks

by ljummen (Vendelin)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), First Meetings, Homelessness, M/M, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendelin/pseuds/ljummen
Summary: Zhenya takes the same train to work every morning. He likes the routine. Getting up, putting on his suit, grabbing breakfast on his way to the stop and then taking the 6:32 a.m. train.This morning, however, there’s someone new here. He’s in a seat towards the back of the car, wearing a cap low on his face and a blue hoodie with frayed hems. He’s young, in his early twenties at most, and has dark circles under his eyes.





	Tracks

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was first posted on [tumblr.](http://ljummen.tumblr.com/post/175446768387/tracks) It was inspired by the picture featured below.

Zhenya takes the same train to work every morning. He likes the routine. Getting up, putting on his suit, grabbing breakfast on his way to the stop and then taking the 6:32 a.m. train.

At work, everything is usually chaos, so the few minutes of familiarity every morning are crucial for him to get into the right mindset.

He’s only lived in the city for five months, but he’s already learning the faces of the people who take the same morning train. Like him, many of them are in suits, carrying a briefcase or messenger bag, and a coffee. Some nods to him this morning, even though they don’t know each other’s names. Zhenya nods back.

This morning, however, there’s someone new here. He’s in a seat towards the back of the car, wearing a cap low on his face and a blue hoodie with frayed hems. He’s young, in his early twenties at most, and has dark circles under his eyes.

During Zhenya’s short ride to work, his head droops with sleep at least twice, before he jerks upright again.

From what Zhenya can see, he’s awfully pretty, with sharp cheekbones and dark hair, sticking out in curls under his cap. Perhaps he’s got an early class, or an assignment to finish.

Work is beyond busy, per usual. Zhenya has gone from the marketing intern, to actually being paid for his job in less than five months, but that also comes with the expectation of him knowing what he’s doing. It sure doesn’t feel that way, but his team manager seems impressed at the end of the day anyway, when she corrects his English. It’s an understanding they have; Zhenya comes up with the layout, graphic, text design, and Jen fixes his English. It’s been a successful teamwork so far.

He shoots shit with the rest of his team while he works, pretending to be annoyed when he comes back after lunch break with his chair taped to his desk. Typical Flower.

At the end of the day, he goes back to his cramped studio apartment with creaking floors and a leaking faucet in the kitchenette. Zhenya loves it. There isn’t room for much beyond a decent-sized bed, a couch he got from GoodWill for $20 and a TV. But he has photos of family and friends all over the stained, beige walls, and odd lamps he’s found at local flea markets. Whenever sun goes down, his tiny space softens into a glow of different shades of gold.

The next morning on the train, Zhenya notices him right away. He’s in the same seat, wearing the same hoodie and cap. Today, Zhenya spots the black, beat up backpack squeezed between his side and the wall. It looks awfully thin. He’s paler today and fast asleep, head tipped back against the wall behind him, with eyelashes fanned out against his cheekbones.

Unease settles deep in Zhenya’s belly, but he pushes it away. Early class, probably. Again. Zhenya sure had early classes most days.

Everything is normal at work, at least. Chaos and banter. Zhenya wouldn’t change it for anything. He grabs lunch with Flower, Phil, and Jack from accounting. Apparently he used to work with marketing before, until both management and himself realized that he’s shit at it.

“I think I’m going to propose to Vero,” Flower says out of nowhere, and Zhenya chokes on his chicken sandwich. Jack slaps a hand against his back, while congratulating Flower. Something warm settles in Zhenya chest. He can actually get married in this country, should he want to.

By chance, he manages to catch the earlier train home. He rarely sees anyone he recognizes in this direction. There are more people out at this time of day, and he can rarely leave work at a given time. Today is different.

In the same corner as this morning, there he is, clutching his backpack to his chest. He’s not sleeping now, though, but staring out the window, despite there being nothing to see on the other side. Zhenya is standing closer than the previous times, so he can make out the beautiful color of his eyes. There’s a tired indifference to them that worries him.

Just as Zhenya is about to get off, the guy looks away from the window and meets his gaze. They look at each other until the doors open and Zhenya has to leave.

He has a hard time falling asleep that night.

The worst-best thing about his taking the 6:32 morning train is that the CEO of Zhenya’s company takes the same one. Mr. Lemieux is very passionate about public transportation as a way to care for the environment, and their company does a lot to CO2 compensate everything they do. It’s not just fancy talk, he actually does commute by train to work every day, as though he doesn’t make millions of dollars.

This morning, he’s in the same car as Zhenya, and in the seat opposite of him is the same guy Zhenya has spotted two days in a row, now. He’s still wearing the same clothes, and he looks even paler than usual. His cap is gone, and Zhenya’s stomach churns with unease when he notices the dark shade across his cheekbone. Did someone hurt him?

This time, the guy finds Zhenya’s gaze just a couple of stops after he’s gotten on the train, and they keep eye contact until Zhenya has to get off. There’s no nod, no attempts of communication, just looking at each other.

He’s not on Zhenya’s train home.

That night, Zhenya can’t stop thinking about him. What’s his name? Why is he on the train every morning? He’s less and less inclined to believe in his own student theory, and more and more worried that he might not have anywhere else to go.

Like clockwork, he’s on the train the next morning when Zhenya gets on. There’s a stain on his hoodie and he’s really pale. He’s asleep, though, so Zhenya can’t make eye contact today and somehow make sure that he’s safe and okay.

Does he eat? The more Zhenya keeps looking, he’s convinced that he’s skinnier than the first time, even though it’s been less than a week. Before he gets off at his stop, he scribbles a message on the paper bag containing his breakfast bagel.  _Breakfast for friend. /Z_

He picks the doors closest to where the guy is sitting and carefully drops the paperbag in his lap just before the doors open. Zhenya doesn’t look back to see if that woke him up.

Work drags today, and they have a project to finish before he can go home. Flower is swearing in French under his breath, and Phil has taken to angrily eating candy bars to keep his blood sugar at dangerous levels. Zhenya sticks to triple shots of espresso.

It’s almost midnight when he finally steps onto the train. His plan is to stare a head and zone out on reality until he’s home, but he spots someone familiar in the corner. Today, they lock eyes immediately.

The guy doesn’t move a muscle—he barely even blinks—but he keeps Zhenya’s gaze steadily. All Zhenya can do is look back at him, hoping that he comes off as a friend. For the entire ride until Zhenya has to get off, it’s no one but the two of them in the entire world. Zhenya lifts his fore- and longfinger from the strap of his bag, as a goodbye, when he steps off.

The following morning, he gets a barely-there twitch of the guy’s fore- and longfinger, where they’re resting on his backpack. Zhenya mimics the gesture. He’s prepared today, carrying an extra bagel in a separate bag. He wrote the message while he waited for the train, it’s the same as last time. He takes the detour past the guy’s seat when he gets off, dropping the bag in the empty seat next to him.

It continues like that for a couple of weeks. Zhenya worries, because the guy gets skinnier and skinnier, it seems. He’s taken to leave two, sometimes three bagels every morning. They don’t talk. It’s just the two-finger acknowledgement that is now their routine.

Fall is approaching fast, and Zhenya worries. It’s soon going to be too cold for a hoodie and jeans. Three bagels a day aren’t going to cut it for an adult for that much longer. Looking around his apartment, he sighs. There’s not really enough room for a roommate. Neither of them would get any privacy whatsoever. But at least there are four walls and a roof.

When he falls asleep way past midnight, he’s decided: he’s going to offer the guy a place to stay if he wants it. Zhenya has to.

But he oversleeps the next morning and no matter how fast he runs, the train leaves without him at 6:32 a.m. It’s fine, he tells himself. The guy probably has someone else who can provide him with food. It’s going to be fine.

The next morning, Zhenya is five minutes early and waiting as the train rolls in. He’s got four bagels, just to make up for yesterday’s mishap. But when he gets on the train and his eyes automatically go for the usual spot in the corner, the seat is empty.

As well as the next morning.

Zhenya’s heart is heavy with a rickety beat that makes him feel stressed and distracted the entire day. He barely even hums when Jack tells them about his roommate and the new accounting intern over lunch.

Did something happen? Is the guy okay?

As the temperature drops quickly over the course of the week, Zhenya’s concern grows. Every morning he stares at the empty seat, as though he can make the guy to show up by sheer will.

It doesn’t.

After three weeks and two days, Zhenya gives up on buying the extra bagels for breakfast. His team is disappointed, because this means no more free breakfast for them. They got used to it way too fast. He buries himself in work and gets promoted to team leader when Jen gets a promotion, too. It’s not nearly as satisfying as he thought it would be.

He’s late for their lunch, and when he shows up there’s an additional person at their table.

“Geno, this is Sid, he just got hired so we’re celebrating,” Jack tells him as a way of greeting.

But Zhenya is frozen at the spot. Because even though the hoodie is exchanged for a polo shirt and the jeans replaced with slacks. Despite there being some color to his face and meat on his bones again. Zhenya knows exactly who this is.

“Hi,” Sid says, and offers his hand across the table. The look in his eyes tells Zhenya that he knows exactly who Zhenya is as well.

“Nice to meet,” Zhenya says. “I’m Geno.”

Sid smiles as he shakes Zhenya’s hand.

He doesn’t hear most of the conversation for the rest of their lunch and can’t keep himself form openly staring at Sid, who’s sometimes looking back at him in a way that’s so familiar and at the same time completely new.

Zhenya has a name now. He replies with complete silence when Flower and Phil try and bug him about Sid after lunch. Apparently his staring was obvious, but it’s not his story to tell.

It’s easier to fall asleep at night, knowing that the guy on the train is safe and well, working and rooming with Jack.

He’s working late one Thursday, alone because he sent his entire team home an hour ago. “Just have touch up,” he’d said, even though it was at least three hours of work left. They have people to go home to, and Zhenya needs them well rested tomorrow. It was an easy choice to make.

When a paper bag lands on his desk, he jerks and looks around. There’s Sid in a button up and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His gaze is uncertain when he looks at Zhenya.

“For me?” Zhenya asks and reaches for the bag. There’s something scribbled on it.

_Dinner for a friend._

Inside is a bagel waiting for him.

“It’s a thank you.” Sid shifts his weight from one leg to the other and folds his arms across his chest, before puts his hands in his pockets again.

“What for?” Zhenya asks, but his chest is sore, suddenly.

“You know what for.” Sid takes a breath. “And for not telling anyone else after we met at lunch. I, uh, that means a lot.”

“Of course not tell. Is not my choice.”

“Still, thanks.” And then Sid bolts, and there’s Zhenya with his bagel.

It keeps happening when Zhenya is working late. Sometimes Sid puts a bag there, always with the same message, while he’s working, or there’s one waiting for him when he comes back from the bathroom. He doesn’t stop to chat again, but Zhenya enjoys it all the same.

Until one night, when it’s past midnight and Zhenya really should go home.

“Don’t you need sleep?” Sid asks him and puts the paper bag on Zhenya’s desk.

“Need lots of sleep.”

“So why are you still here?”

“Have to finish project report.” Zhenya rubs a hand over his dry eyes. “English is hard and I’m not trust Google translate.”

Sid snorts. “That’s wise. Maybe I can help?”

For all of two seconds, Zhenya thinks about saying no, but instead he wheels his chair back and gestures to his screen. “Would be nice, thank you.”

Sid drags Flower’s chair over and scrolls up to the first page of the document. Zhenya concentrates on his bagel to stop himself from staring at the way Sid’s hair curls at the neck.

“You know,” Sid says as he marks something in the document and then types a few words. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to talk to you.”

“Me too,” Zhenya says.

“It’s a small world, eh?”

“Very small,” Zhenya agrees.

Sid is quiet for a long while after that, scrolling through the document and fixing whatever errors Zhenya has made. He doesn’t give him shit for it, like Phil does whenever he has to help out.

“My aunt kicked me out,” Sid says suddenly and Zhenya blinks. “I didn’t have anywhere to stay. That’s why I was on the train. I rode it for as long as I could each day.”

“I figure little bit,” Zhenya confesses. “You always wear same clothes, always in same spot. Sometimes so tired.”

“I made sure to always catch your morning train,” Sid says and his cheeks color. He doesn’t look away from the screen, though.

“So worry when you not there,” Zhenya says. “Keep worry several weeks.”

“Well, uh,” Sid pauses and looks away from the screen. “Mario, Mr. Lemieux, he offered me a place to stay and an internship in accounting that morning. Said it was gonna be winter soon and too cold for me to keep doing this. He said that if I did a good job, I’d have a solid career ahead of me. When he heard that Jack was looking for a roommate, he offered to pay my part of rent until I’d proven myself enough to get hired here. Jack doesn’t know. He thinks Mario is my uncle.”

“Uncle,” Zhenya nods to himself. “I remember.”

Sid smiles weakly and then nods to the screen. “Done. Your English is really good.”

“Not perfect,” Zhenya sighs.

“Close enough.” Sid gets up from the chair and turns to leave. But then he stops just by the door. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You always signed with Z, but people here call you Geno and your name is Evgeni.”

“Yes.”

Sid bites his lip and looks away. “Did you—did you make that up so I wouldn’t figure out your real name?”

“No,” Zhenya says and smiles. “Have nickname, kind of only for close friends, family, maybe partner. Is Zhenya.”

Sid blinks at him and opens his mouth twice, but no words come out. Instead he hurries out of there and Zhenya is left starting after him. Did he say something wrong?

It’s two weeks before he works late again, when Sid shows up he doesn’t have a paper bag with him.

“How you always know when I work late?” Zhenya says, when Sid only hovers in the doorway.

“I check the company skype client. If all your team members are grey, but you’re green or red, I know you’re here alone.” Sid rocks back on his heels. “The first time I talked to you, I didn’t want anyone else to be around. I checked on random when I was working late, and there you were. I guess I got into the habit.”

“Could just write in chat you know,” Zhenya points out.

Sid shrugs at that. “I kind of like seeing you face to face.”

“Is handsome face,” Zhenya says, grinning when Sid lets out a honking giggle. Then silence falls again and Zhenya can’t stop looking at him. “You come here for talk or just look?”

Sid’s cheeks grow pink. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay.” Zhenya motions for him to go on.

“There’s this twenty-four hour diner on the corner. Would you maybe like to grab a burger before you go home?”

“Like friends?” Zhenya asks, his heart picking up behind his ribs.

Sid hesitates and it feels like an eon of time passes between them, then, finally, “Like a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ljummen.tumblr.com)!


End file.
